


End in Trouble and Start with a Grin

by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee



Series: True Love or Something [20]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Grocery Shopping, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Human Disaster Keith, Humor, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 01:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9468833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee/pseuds/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: "How the hell did you get banned from every Walmart in the state of New Mexico?"“Well after the first couple dozen the rest just sort of joined forces..."“How? Why? I have so many questions.”Five times Keith has gotten into trouble in a grocery store and one time it wasn't him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWS AND SUPPORT!!!
> 
> So I spent my free time last weekend watching season 2! (Hence why I haven't updated for a while, I was going to post some stuff last weekend but...I binge-watched season 2 instead). For the record, this series is an AU anyway, so I'm just gonna lean into that in regards to characters' families as depicted here. My OCs will remain, even if they're eventually de-canonized, because I'm already committed to this series and I'm happy with it as it stands. Although I might throw in some references to season 2 stuff here and there...because I'm sneaky...
> 
> Just so you know, you're lucky you're getting this fluffy nonsense. I was planning on writing an angsty broganes-centric fic featuring lots of flashbacks to their childhood and stuff, and while that's still in the works it's been fighting me every step of the way. Plus I had an extremely long day at work and I just wasn't in a place to write much heavy stuff. So have a five plus one of grocery store shenanigans!

**End in Trouble and Start with a Grin**

6 Years Old

            Keith isn’t sure how he feels about the security office at the Winn-Dixie. On the one hand, it’s much quieter than the grocery store and there are fewer people. On the other hand, the only other person in the room is the grumpy guy, who has his arms folded and is glaring really hard like maybe Keith did a Bad Thing. Plus the walls are grey and boring and all Keith’s new stuff is piled up on the table and the grumpy guy won’t let him touch any of it.

            Keith reaches for it anyway because he wasn’t done with his fruit snacks and he wants the rest of them.

            “Don’t touch that,” the grumpy guy says, predictably.

            Keith tries to give him the same look his mom gives people she thinks are particularly stupid or narrow-minded. He’s not sure if he succeeded. The grumpy guy does not seem intimidated. “These are my _provisions_ , for _survival_ ,” Keith says, as if it’s a huge inconvenience having to explain this to some dumb grown-up who should already know.

            The grumpy guy does not seem impressed by six-year-old Keith’s vocabulary or ability to plan for the future. All he says is, “You’ll live,” very flatly.

            “You don’t know that,” Keith shoots back, “I could starve. I could die of _exposure_ in the _wilderness_ and it would be _your_ fault for sending me into the wild unprepared.” Keith isn’t really sure what ‘dying of exposure’ actually means, but he’s pretty sure that possessing fruit snacks and duct tape would definitely help prevent it.

            “You aren’t in the wilderness, kid.”

            “But I _could_ be.”

            “You aren’t. You’re in a grocery store.”

            “ _Could_ means potential future. Not now,” Keith scoffs, “Keep up.”

            The grumpy guy looks less grumpy now and more just generally confused like he can’t decide if he wants to strangle Keith or laugh. Keith tends to have that affect on people.

            Keith smiles, slow and smug, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair (it’s a grown-up chair, Keith’s battered shoes don’t even touch the floor).

            Luckily, Keith’s mom comes charging through the door at that moment, before he can push grumpy guy too far and get yelled at. Mom is absolutely frantic, her hair falling out of the sloppy knot she’d thrown it into, black and purple (they’d dyed it in the bathroom sink of the last gas station they stopped at) strands slip-sliding everywhere. Keith gets his cowlicks from his mom. He gets most of his looks from her, he thinks. She’s slender and sharp-featured like him.

            She has hungry eyes like him.

            “Oh, baby, there you are,” she rushes to him and gathers him in her arms. She’s shaking ever-so-slightly, tiny shivers flickering through her skin and muscles and bones.

            And all at once Keith realizes just how scared he was, how terrifying it really was when they got separated, when he was afraid he’d never find her again. He clings, wrapping little arms around her neck and hanging on tight. His eyes water and he almost cries but doesn’t because he has to be a big kid now that it’s winter and Shiro’s not around to do it. He has to be big and grown-up and responsible for Mom. Shiro told him to and he always does what Shiro says.

            “What happened, babydoll?” she asks, running a fine-boned hand up and down his back, her other on his head, combing through his hair (he needs a haircut, he thinks, it’s getting the too-long kind of messy again). “Where were you? What are you doing here?”

            Keith sniffles against her neck. No tears though, no crying. Not in front of the grumpy guy. He has to be able to tell Shiro he was good and grown-up for Mom when Shiro comes back next summer. “I got lost in the store. It was so big and there were so many people, I’ve never seen so many people, maybe _ever_. And then I couldn’t find you. And I thought that if I couldn’t find you then I would never get to go home again, and I’d have to live in the desert with the coyotes. But coyotes are mean and I’m not a coyote so they wouldn’t take care of me so I had to get provisions. To live in the wilderness. With the coyotes.”

            The grumpy guy clears his throat, “He tried to steal a pound of tail mix, a box of fruit snacks, three rolls of duct tape, some bags of beef jerky, and a pair of scissors, ma’am.”

            “I couldn’t find a knife,” Keith sniffled, “you always said a good knife an duct tape are all you need and I couldn’t find a knife so I got some scissors, which are basically two knives stuck together.”

            His mom pushes his hair out of his face and kisses his forehead; “Good job improvising, babydoll, but maybe get a tent next time you have to prepare to live in the wilderness. You have to have a shelter.”

            Keith nods, absorbing her wisdom, “And don’t go in caves, cuz of snakes.”

            “Mmmhmm.”

            “Ma’am,” the grumpy guy interrupts, “the store really doesn’t want to press charges since he’s so young and I don’t think he really _meant_ to steal anything. But he did eat some of the food items…”

            “ _Keith_ ,” his mom playfully admonishes him; “You have to save your provisions if you’re planning on long-term outdoor living. Conserve your resources, child.”

            He nods seriously, “Okay, Mom.”

            “ _Ma’am_ ,” the grumpy guy is practically pleading, “Please just settle up with customer services and remove your son from the premises.”

            She catches Keith’s eye and winks extravagantly. He winks right back at her and she laughs, cuddling him close. She still smells sharp and vinegary from the hair dye, but under it is the scent of dust and somewhere far away.

            “Okay, okay, _officer_ ,” she pretends to tip an invisible hat at the guy, “We’ll settle up at customer service.” She stands, hauling Keith up with her as she goes and swinging him around until he’s perched on her back piggy-back style, his arms around her neck.

            “If Mom gives you money can I finish my fruit snacks?” Keith asks grumpy guy, who’s looking less grumpy and more generally bemused.

            “Sure, kid. Whatever your mom pays for, you can have.”

            Keith nods. This seems fair.

            “For the record,” his mother tells him as they make their way to customer service, “Fruit snacks are not a good choice for survival rations.”

            “What’s a ration?”

            “It’s how much food you eat when you don’t have much food and you don’t know when you’re getting more.”

            “Huh.”

            That summer Shiro will be very confused when Keith gravely hands him a poptart and says, “You’re getting _rations_ of everything because Mom hasn’t gone to the grocery store yet.”

…

Age 12

            “ _Keith_ ,” his mother hauls him out of the grocery store by the collar of his jacket and doesn’t let him go until they’re in the parking lot outside. He’s struggling the entire time she’s hanging onto him and when she lets go he’s still twisting and ends up pulling away too violently, spinning out into the parking lot, the heels of his sneakers sending up little dust-devils in his wake.

“What the hell were you doing in there?” She demands. She’s not folding her arms; she’s not adopting the same defensive postures Keith’s seen moms on tv make. She’s stunningly open when she’s upset; arms flung wide, almost inviting an attack. Daring whomever she’s fighting with to take a shot at her.

            Come at me.

            I can take you.

            You want to hurt me? You’ll regret it when all’s done.

            “That guy was following you around! It was fucking creepy!”

            “So you picked a fight with him?”

            “I told him to fuck off.”

            His mother’s lips press together, “That’s not your job, and he wasn’t following me.”

            “Yeah, well, I think he was.”

            She huffs, “He wasn’t being creepy. He recognized me from my book. He wanted an autograph.”

            “He was wearing a tinfoil hat.”

            “Your Uncle Larry wears a tinfoil hat!”

            “Larry isn’t my real uncle, he’s your weirdo ex-boyfriend! And he’d better not be my dad!”

            “For the love of god, Keith, he is not your father, I didn’t even _meet_ Larry until you were seven years old!”

            “Well, good!” Keith snaps and he’s not sure what he and his mom are fighting about now but he’s really, really mad and he wants her to know it. “But when creeps in tinfoil hats start following my mom around the grocery store, I reserve the right to fight them!”

            “I can’t let you do that, Keith! You’re not…you’re not supposed to punch people in the face because they’re ‘being creepy’ or wearing alternative headwear! If a guy is bothering me, trust me to be able to deal with it _on my own_ , unless I ask you for help.”

            “Tinfoil hat, stalker-y,” Keith lists the guy’s trespasses off on his fingers and he doesn’t understand how his mother doesn’t _get_ it, “I had to fight him.”

            She huffs, “You didn’t _have_ to do anything. You picked a fight with a random stranger.”

            Keith growls under his breath and turns away, folding his arms the way his mom does when she’s done fighting or talking.

            “Keith,” his mother sighs and he sneaks at look at her out of the corner of his eye. She’s rubbing her eyes, her amber-tinted reading glasses (they turn her eyes gold and scatter bright light-shadows whenever the sun hits them) sliding up into her messy dark hair. She looks tired. She drops her hand and her glasses fall back into place behind the gesture. “You have to realize that a situation like that can be resolved with words first. If you’d just asked the guy what he was doing, if you assessed the situation, asked him to back off, maybe it wouldn’t have escalated. Hell, maybe it would have anyway. But at least you’d have tried.”

            He snorts, but his mom sounds…reasonable. He gets what she’s trying to tell him. But there’s still something jittering under his skin. A live-wire current to his bloodstream. He still wants to fight something.

            He looks back at his mom and something of the desperation chewing up his insides must show on his face because hers softens in turn. She walks over and wraps her arms around his shoulders, drawing his head down until it rests against her chest, over her heart. “Oh, babydoll,” she murmurs her childhood pet name for him and Shiro under her breath. She smooths his hair away from his face like she did when he was very small. He’s shaking slightly. “I miss your brother too,” she says gently.

            “I don’t.” Keith says sullenly, “He left. He doesn’t want us so we don’t have to want him.”

            “Liar,” she says, “Liar-liar-pants-on-fire,” she sing-songs. “I know you miss Shiro.”

            “I don’t,” Keith insists, even though his eyes are watering.

            “Do too,” she says easily, “I know you do. But I also know you’re pissed that you miss him. You don’t want to, do you?”

            Keith nods.

            “Yeah, thought so,” she snorts, “It’s summer and Shiro used to always be here in the summer. You could always count on two things: Shiro and summer.”

            Keith nods again.

            “Mmmhmm. And now he’s been gone for awhile. He wasn’t here last summer or the summer before that.”

            “He doesn’t want us anymore,” Keith insists, even though he knows he’s lying to himself, to her.

            “You know that’s not true.”

            A pause, “Then why did he leave?”

            “Because he grew up, he has his own life to live.”

            “I know. Just…”

            “You miss your brother and you’re mad at the world and you want to fight something.”

            Keith nods again.

            “Oh, honey,” she sighs, “me too. Sometimes I just want to fight something too.”

            He never forgets that conversation, although he’s mostly forgiven Shiro for his absence by the time his brother’s next call comes through.

…

Age 14

            "How the hell did you get banned from every Walmart in the state of New Mexico?" Shiro’s voice from his hospital bed, whisper-thin and tired but amused, cuts through whatever rambling story Keith had been trying to keep him entertained with.

Keith is determined not to get too excited about these brief moments of interest from his brother. The doctors all say that the healing process will take a long time, that getting worked up over every little thing now will just lead to more disappointment later – but it’s really hard not to when Shiro is _awake_ and _talking._

“Well after the first couple dozen the rest just sort of joined forces..." Keith explains offhandedly.

Shiro huffs, maybe. It’s a soft sound. Like cotton balls breathing. “How? Why? I have so many questions.”

Keith shrugs, biting down on his smile, “Mom had a bet with this guy at one of our campsites. He was bragging about how many Walmarts he’d been thrown out of, saying he had the record. So Mom bet him she could beat it.”

“Sounds like Mom.”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds like _you_.”

“Well, I was there.”

“Oh, Keith.”

…

Age 17

            Of course Shiro walks into Target’s security office as Keith is saying, “Seriously, don’t worry about it. This is no big deal. We haven’t even been arrested.”

            “No big deal?” Shiro says archly, folding his arms and raising a single eyebrow as a gaggle of drama club kids start and whirl around to stare at him, “And what exactly do you consider a ‘big deal’ Keith Galileo Kogane?”

            Keith wrinkles his nose, “Ew, Shiro, that’s not my middle name.”

            “I’m sorry, Keith _Copernicus_ Kogane.”

            “Not my middle name! Oh my god, how do you not know my middle name?”

            Shiro raises both eyebrows, mouth ticking up at the corners, “How do _you_ not know your middle name?”

            “My middle name is not Copernicus!”

            “Are you sure? How would you know?” Shiro shrugs, “I have your birth certificate; you’ve never seen it. There could be anything on there.”

            Keith glares at his brother.

            Shiro grins, unrepentant. “So what, pray tell, little brother, have you and your gang gotten yourself into this time?”

            “Um, Mr. Shiro, sir,” a quiet girl named Stacey who can do just about anything with a sewing machine says, “We were getting props for the show and we found all these foam swords…”

            “And we had a fight!” one of the freshman guys shouts, “It was super cool.”

            “And then security showed up,” one of the senior girls huffs.

            “I was winning, for the record,” Keith says, because this is very relevant.

            “Yeah, it was everyone versus Keith,” the other freshman guy grins, “It was totally badass.”

            Keith grins, smug. Shiro looks very tired.

            “Keith, what is the deal with you and grocery stores?”

            “Technically, this isn’t a grocery store. And neither is Walmart.”

            “They sell groceries and that’s not the point.” Shiro sighs and visibly collects himself. “Guys, I’ve talked to the store manager and as long as you help put back all the displays you knocked over, they’re not going to do anything. You parents won’t even have to know about this unless you tell them, although _I strongly recommend you do_. Understand? Okay, go team; put back those displays. Keith. Stay a second.”

            Keith waves off his fellow drama kids and when the door finally closes behind the last of them, turns his full attention to Shiro. “Thanks,” he blurts out, “You know, for helping us out.”

            Shiro sighs, “You know if you need me I’ll always be there. Eventually. I considered leaving you to suffer for a while. Stew in your own guilt. Then I remembered you have no shame and I’d just be punishing your classmates for no good reason.”

            Keith grins. His brother knows him so well. “True. Thank you, though. Really.”

            “No problem,” Shiro sighs and shakes his head, “Is there _any_ situation featuring authority that you’ll take seriously?”

            Keith shrugs, “When I was eight Mom and I got arrested for camping on a US Army weapons-testing site. We didn’t see the signs.”

            “…Seriously?”

            “Yeah, I didn’t think it happened in real life either. We didn’t get bombed. We didn’t see any bombs, either. Just some really irritated guards and this angry dude with an eyepatch who told us we were lucky they weren’t pressing charges.”

            Shiro just buries his face in his hands and sighs.

            Keith pats him awkwardly on the shoulder.

…

Age 25

            Keith is not actually sure how he ended up in the security office of the supermarket this time. But Lance is there, so either everything is okay, or their combined talent for destruction has reached new heights.

            “Babe, I really need you kind of functional right now.” Has Keith ever mentioned how _pretty_ Lance is? Like, not pretty, but kind of just really, _really_ attractive. Keith should probably mention this to Lance at some point. His boyfriend deserves to know how incredibly hot he is.

            “Okay, that’s really nice, babe, but you’re kind of zoned out and rambling.”

            Huh. Sounds like some of Keith’s thoughts have escaped. He should do something about that.

            Lance’s hands are on either side of his face, keeping his attention zeroed in where it belongs. Presumably. Keith kind of just defaults to staring at Lance, honestly. “So you’re obviously in power-save-mode,” Lance says, “but hopefully you’ll retain some of this. It’s tech week, you’ve gone full-zombie and fell asleep at Costco. A very nice Costco employee tried to wake you up and when he touched you, you judo-flipped him. Luckily he’s only a little bruised since you fell asleep in the furniture section and just flipped him onto a couch. He is not pressing charges, he says it’s and I quote, ‘such a cool story, bro’. Lucky for you, I followed Shiro’s advice and safety-pinned my information on a piece of paper inside your jacket so they could contact me if you wandered off somewhere.”

            “Wow, rude.”

            “Okay, I liked it better when you were complimenting my stunning good looks.”

            “Did I really fall asleep on a Costco couch?”

            “I like how you think that’s the most improbable part of this story.”

            Keith just shrugs.

            Lance sighs extravagantly, “Come on, Sleeping Beauty; let’s go home.”

            “But you have to kiss me first. It’s the fairy tale rule.” This point seems very important to tired-Keith’s weary brain.

            Lance stares at him. “And you just get cuter. That’s seriously not fair.”

            Keith frowns.

            Lance sighs and presses a chaste kiss to his mouth. “Happy now?”

            “Yes.”

            The next morning Keith wakes up in Lance’s bed and when he checks his jacket does indeed find an index card with _‘If found incapacitated, call Lance McClain-Sanchez’_ and Lance’s number written on it.

            Dammit, Lance.

…

Age 27

            “My how the tables have turned.”

            “Gloating is unbecoming,” Shiro huffs.

            “And _Shiro_ , you are thirty-five years old, young man! This kind of behavior is just unacceptable!” Keith says dramatically, internally laughing at the put-upon look on Shiro’s face at his words.

            “I would like to point out that I’m innocent,” Hunk says from the back of the group scrunched together in Target’s security office.

            “Yeah, this one’s pretty much all on Pidge’s death-bot,” Lance points out.

            “Excuse you!” Pidge snaps, “Rover is not a _death-bot_! He has feelings!”

            “No, I’m pretty comfortable blaming the robot for this one,” Hunk agrees.

            “It’s not about blame,” Shiro says, “It’s about accepting consequences for your actions.”

            “I just wanted to expose Rover to daily human life! I need to build his database!” Pidge protests, “And Lance totally helped me smuggle him in. And Hunk helped build him. Rover, not Lance.”

            “Hey, way to play the blame game!” Lance huffs.

            “If I’m going down I’m taking you all with me,” Pidge growls.

            “Keith,” Lance turns pleading eyes on him, “Most excellent of husbands.”

            “No.”

            “Hey! I’m demoting you!”

            “To what? Slightly subpar husband? Only somewhat excellent of husbands? What are you going for here?”

            “Ugh,” Pidge sighs dramatically, “Just tell the nice security people we’re not deranged so they’ll give us back Rover and won’t press charges for his rampage. Save your weird flirting for your own house.”

            “I have to agree with Pidge,” Shiro says, “I’d really like to leave this security office.”

            Keith grins at them all. “I’m really enjoying this moment.”

            “Please just let us go free!” Hunk groans.

            It’s Hunk that finally convinces Keith. He really does look sad.

            Outside they walk back to their cars, free at last and unilaterally banned from that Target (even Keith, just for being associated with them. He takes this rather well. Shiro and Hunk are the most bothered.) Lance leans into Keith’s side, lacing their fingers together, “You are terrible. I’d like to point out that when it was you in the security office of a major chain store I did not leave you hanging _at all_. I was very, very supportive. Very.”

            “Sorry,” Keith tugs on their joined hands lightly, “This is really about a family tradition Shiro finds disturbing FOR NO GOOD REASON!” he aims the last words at the back of Shiro’s head.

            Shiro turns around and glares at him, “You and Mom spent nine months getting kicked out of every Walmart in New Mexico to win a _bet_.”

            “And we won, didn’t we?”

            “That’s not the point!”

            “ _I_ think it’s impressive,” Lance grins at him, obviously fighting back laughter.

            Keith huffs, “It was a lot of work.”

            “I’m sure it was, babe. I’m sure it was.”

            Keith peers at him out of the corner of his eye, “You know I love you even if I make you wait in Target security offices, right?”

            “Um, yeah? It’s kind of obvious.”

            “Good. Just checking.”

            “Awesome.”

            They walk back to their cars, hand in hand, watching Pidge and Hunk run after Rover as Shiro laughs. It’s a good day for grocery shopping.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from 'Down in the Valley' by the Head & the Heart
> 
> Also, Copernicus and Galileo were astronomers and Ms. Kogane would totally name her son Keith Copernicus Kogane if she could get away with it.


End file.
